


Certitude

by headtripparade



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-All Out War Arc (Walking Dead), Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headtripparade/pseuds/headtripparade
Summary: In which Daryl didn’t have to go live in the woods after Rick because he had someone waiting for him.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Certitude

**Author's Note:**

> So I was getting ready for bed and randomly decided that I wanted to churn out my first Bethyl fic in three years. 
> 
> It’s an idea I’d been playing with for a hot minute because we all know Daryl didn’t deserve to live in the woods for six years. Not that it’s all rainbows and stuff—please be aware that aside from Beth’s death I left everything as canon as I could, including Daryl’s leadership stint at the Sanctuary.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

He wasn’t sure of where the others had gone; of how long the trek to Alexandria had taken him. He couldn’t be certain of how many walkers he’d encountered on the journey or how quickly he was able to turn and dispatch them. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, or if he even had one. He wasn’t sure if he even really cared.

He wasn’t sure about a _goddamn_ thing. 

All he did know as he approached the gate was that his feet were shuffling beneath him like those of an elderly man and his heart hammered against his breastbone so fucking hard he considered that it was likely about to burst right out of him and splay his blood on the tattered welcome sign. 

He glanced up to the guard on duty—a gentle-eyed young man named Zane whom he’d only met a handful of times over the last year—and tried to speak, but it was as if his throat had dried up and completely closed. There were no words to be had. He closed his eyes, which were all but all cried out. 

_Fuck._

“Open ‘er up! It’s Daryl!”

Zane’s command flew past his ears almost as muffled as the sound of the gate sliding open. True to form, he couldn’t be sure if the force of it actually blew a gust of air in his face or if he was imagining it.

He’d hoped he imagined it, because that could mean that he did have it in him somewhere to pretend; to strip himself of his pragmatism and just make believe that today didn’t happen. Hell, he wouldn’t complain if the last 18 months could just go right out the window along with it.

There was palpable tension between him and Rick, he felt uneasy about pretty much everything, and he couldn’t help but feel like all the time he spent at the Sanctuary and the Hilltop and at that damn bridge had driven an immovable wedge between him and his _home._

But wedge be damned, his shuffles were carrying him exactly there.

It’s not like he consciously tried to be rude to the people greeting him—really, he was in no headspace to do such things. He didn’t intend to ignore their questions, but fuck it. He couldn’t give them what they needed. He didn’t even know what they needed. He didn’t know what _he_ needed, so he brushed by them without a sound and followed his muscle memory down the street.

He winced.

He’d tried to block the image out for the length of his travels—the horde, Rick’s bloody hand aiming his gun and taking out the bridge—but for some reason it just kept playing on a grotesque loop like ‘Easy Street’ and he found himself wishing it was the song stuck in his head as opposed to what actually was.

Slowly, he trudged up the steps to the porch. He came out of his fog enough to notice that his bow had been limply dragging for God knows how long and he was likely going to have to repair a thing or two. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was so much to repair—so much was fucking _broken_ —what was one more thing? 

He dropped the bow on the porch and slipped his hand over the cool bronze of the door knob, twisting it and letting himself into the house. _His_ house. _Their_ house. He didn’t want to feel comfortable in it. It was too big, too nice... too much of everything that he constantly tried to fight getting used to. 

But all it took was one look at her as she rounded the corner to inspect the slamming of the door behind him and he was right back to not being sure.

He wasn’t sure how he’d agreed to go lead the Sanctuary. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d ever made her stay here when she wanted to go with him.

He wasn’t sure how he’d seen her sister and nephew more in the last year and a half than he’d seen her.

It didn’t matter, though. None of it did. Because her face—her beautiful fucking face—twisted so seamlessly from shocked to confused to relieved and that seemed to be all the reassurance he needed to collapse onto the stairwell in a fit of dry heaves.

“Daryl?” 

She approached slowly, the slightest bit of apprehension coming off of her posture.

“Hey,” she squatted down so that she was eye level with him. Or at least she would’ve been if he could manage to look up, or let her finally cut the mop of hair out of his face. “What happened?”

He shook his head, more tears that he didn’t know he had in him threatening to pour down his dirty face. 

She reached for his hand. 

“Look at me,” she urged. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

He lifted his head, staring into her eyes with what he felt was nothing but pain and regret and everything awful that coursed through his veins in that moment; everything that had lead up to this point where he was going to have to say it out loud. 

He swallowed another dry heave, gripping her hand tighter than he intended and not giving two shits.

“Rick.”

If she went cold, he couldn’t tell. 

All he could feel was her leaping up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He could feel her cheek pressed hard against his shoulder, and he could feel himself starting to break.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, soaking her golden hair with the tears he was too weak to fight off anymore. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Beth.”

She gripped his neck tighter and squeezed into him like there was no way she’d ever be close enough. 

“Stop it.” 

She kissed his shoulder before lifting her face to his, her eyes as red rimmed as he’d ever seen them. He gripped her cheek.

“Couldn’t be here,” he took a shaky breath. “Wanted to be but I couldn’t. And now he’s gone.”

She put her head back down to his shoulder, taking in his scent of stale sweat with a hint of bonfire. 

“I love you,” she whispered. “We’ll fix it.”

He wasn’t sure what she was referring to. She could’ve meant Negan, she could’ve meant what the fuck they were going to do without Rick Grimes, or she could’ve just meant his foul appearance after not properly showering for a hot minute. 

He wasn’t sure, but unlike earlier, there was something or three he _was_ sure of. 

He was sure he couldn’t let this destroy him. No matter how easy it would be to let it, he had to keep on keeping on. Rick would expect nothing less from him, for Judith and for the world that they had defended and built. Especially when their last months together had been marred with such resentment and distrust, the least he could do for his brother would be to not completely crack up. 

He was also sure he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time with Beth. He didn’t know what that particular sentiment entailed, but he was positive he had to do everything in his power to protect his people, this place, and their way of life because she wanted it and frankly he wanted nothing more than to give her everything she wanted until he took his last breath. No matter how mundane or outrageous her dreams may seem in their modern world, he was going to make them happen, and he couldn’t do that by running away.

Why?

Because he loved her. With his whole heart and his whole body and his entire broken soul, he loved her.

He was sure of it. And that’s how they’d fix it, whatever “it” was.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don’t know how I feel about this—I wrote and posted it so quickly my head is kind of spinning, but I was pretty eager to put it out here. I’m also sincerely sorry Daryl went whack and practically abandoned Beth after AOW, but like canon, he was having serious issues with Rick allowing Negan to live. And unfortunately sometimes we take our own shit out on our significant others even if it’s really freaking dumb. Thanks for reading!


End file.
